


peter parker: 30 whump-shots!

by flowerpetal275



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Depressed Peter Parker, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insomnia, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Tony Stark, Sleepy Peter Parker, Stabbing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerpetal275/pseuds/flowerpetal275
Summary: Basically 30 one-shots of me beating up Peter Parker :DGo on, enjoy.Peter won't lmao
Comments: 16
Kudos: 45





	1. stabbed

**Author's Note:**

> buckle up, this fic is gonna be one wiiiilllddd ride

The air felt different on patrol tonight. I wasn't sure why, or really how to explain it, but something deep in my bones told me _something_ was different. 

I look up at the setting sun, the horizon giving a delicate sunflower glow as the day came to an end. Pulling out my phone, I decide it'd be best to leave Happy my nightly voicemail. It felt stupid at this point, I didn't think he ever listened to them. But nonetheless, I called! 

"Hey, Happy." I sigh heavily as I hold the phone up to my ear. I was sitting on the ledge of a smaller building in Queens, eating a churro. "Tonight went good. Stopped this guy from getting mugged. Kinda funny..." I give a small chuckle, "...the guy tried to pull this knife out, but I took it away, so don't worry! Then he took out this gun, and I was like, 'Why didn't you start with the gun?'" I take another bite of my churro. "Anyways, I helped this lady cross the street and she bought me a churro. So that was nice."

I pause, as if expecting the voicemail receiver to reply in some way. I'm not surprised when it doesn't.

"I guess that's it. Bye, Happy." I murmur and end the call. Happy never answers, why do I even try anymore?

He's told me so many times to stop calling, but I still do. I don't really know why. 

OH, I almost forgot—I quickly dial Happy's phone again and call back, "HEY, I almost forgot, I actually caught this guy earlier with this really weird glowey gun and I know I'm not an Avenger but it totally seemed like an Avenger kind of _thinggggg_ and-"

I'm cut off by a scream sounding from somewhere nearby. "Gotta go, Haps." I mutter quickly and push my phone in my pocket. I shove the churro in my mouth.

I swing over, landing on top of a building in order to examine the situation. It was your classic stick-up: some dude holding up a knife to a poor lady with a purse. 

"Oi!" I shout out, swinging down to help the womxn out, "Why don't we let the nice lady go, yeah?"

The guy turns his knife on me, "Who are you?" He spits.

"Oh, I'm usually hanging around." I laugh internally at my joke and gesture widely to the buildings looming around us.

The mugger spits at me and holds the knife up to her throat, "Get out of here! She's mine." 

"Um, she's no one's actually." I reply matter-of-factly and web the knife out of his hands, slinging it to the ground quickly. "Run!" I shout to the womxn.

Without hesitation, she books it out of there as fast as her legs can take her. I brush my hands against each other nonchalantly and sigh as I turn my attention to the burglar, "Now, what to do with—"

A tingle dances along my neck just before my phone goes off, " _I like to move it, move it. He likes to move it, move it. She likes to—_ "

I nearly jump out of my skin when I take a look at the screen--Mr. Stark's calling me?! Mr. Stark almost never calls me! 

I panic internally and smack my thumb on the answer button. It automatically goes to a video call, and Tony's sun-glassed face appears on-screen. He seems to be in his lab. "Hey, kid." Tony smiles at me.

"Mr. Stark!" I shout in reply and smile widely, even though he can't see it under my mask.

"So, Happy told me you mentioned something about glowing weapons on your last voicemail?" He questions and I start to hear the familiar, borderline comforting, sound of bolts and tools being put away, the metal clanking together.

"Oh! Yeah, I—" My spider senses suddenly freak out on me, making me feel as though I was momentarily paralyzed. It's never been this bad before. 

I go to turn, but it seems I was just a second too late—The knife pierces right through my back, the tip extending just out of the front of my abdomen. My smile immediately falls and I look down to see a small stream of blood start to pour from it. The knife is yanked out of me, and I give a heavy grunt.

"Peter?" Tony bunches his eyebrows at me and turns his full attention to the video call.

I take a gap of breath as the phone falters in my hand, revealing the knife wound going through my body. "That shit kinda hurted though." Even dying, I'm still gen-z. 

Tony drops everything he had been previously holding, "Peter, where are you?" He shouts as he starts jogging somewhere. His voice is coated with panic.

"Mr. Stark, I, uh, I think I messed up." I whimper and grasp at the wound, my fingers soon becoming coated in the red substance. As I turn around, I see the man gone, only the bloodied knife lying on the asphalt. I plummet to the ground, both adrenaline and pain overwhelming my enhanced senses. 

"Bruce!" Tony yells, "Bruce, get Dr. Cho to set up the Med-Bay!" I hear the familiar hum of his Ironman thrusters ignite, then the sound of metal clanking around. He must be putting his suit on. "Peter, where you at, kid?"

"I'm–I'm in Queens, on 6th street." I mumble as I push myself against the alley-way wall, my eyes widening at the sheer amount of blood streaking on the asphalt around me. "There's so much, Mr. Stark."

"You're gonna be fine, Peter." Mr. Stark replies breathlessly as he switches the call to connect with his suit's interface. "Just stay with me, okay?"

As my adrenaline fades away, pain comes to smack me right in the face. My eyelids become heavy with exhaustion, my thoughts becoming light. "I'm kinda tired, Mr. Stark."

"Don't you dare fall asleep on me, kid. Keep those eyes open." Mr. Stark replies with concentration as he starts to fly somewhere.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Mr. Stark." I apologize as tears start to drip from my eyes onto my paling cheeks. My words are slurred, progressively melting together, "I'm really sorry for bothering you and Happy so much. I know you guys don't need to care or anything, like I can do it myself, it's just that—"

"What?" Tony interrupts. "Peter, don't apologize for anything. I love hearing your messages, kid. You always sound so excited about helping people." I can almost hear tears in his voice. "But we can't focus on that right now. Right now, I need you to focus on me."

The phone starts to fall limp in my lap as I run out of strength to hold it up and angled at my face. "Peter? You still there?" Mr. Stark sounds beyond worried.

I barely reply, only mumble something in response. Slowly, the familiar sound of thrusters enters my conscious mind, drawing closer until I hear the suit's metal feet clank onto the ground. "Peter!" Tony exclaims.

I look up at him with a tired smile, sweat beading on my forehead. "Mr. Stark..." I trail off as my eyelids flutter closed.

"Nope." Mr. Stark insists and lifts me up bridle-style into his arms. "You're staying here." He takes a deep breath as we shoot off into the sky. "You got that?"

"Thanks, Mr. Stark." I heave out between breaths. The pain starts to send my mind spiraling.

"Anytime, Pete." Tony looks down at me one last time, then his face snaps to one of worry as he sees me passing out. "Peter? Peter!" His voice echoes.

But I'm already asleep.


	2. insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter just can't seem to get some rest ):

It's Thursday. I'm spending the weekend at Mr. Stark's tower since I got myself hurt on my last patrol. Stupid, I know, but it's not my fault! 

Unfortunately though, while I was packing, I forgot to grab my Trazodone. So, now I'm standing in my room, regretting all my life choices. 

I chuck my suitcase onto the floor and fall back onto my bed, groaning when spikes of pain flutter across my chest. I snapped my ankle on the last mission, so Mr. Stark wants me to stay in bed. Not gonna happen.

I limp out to the kitchen, plopping down on one of the island stools with a sigh. "Hey, shouldn't you be resting?" Natasha raises an eyebrow at me. "Mr. Stark said you got hurt out on patrol."

"Yeah." I shrug and snag an apple out of the fruit basket. "I'll be okay." I smile at her and take a bite.

Mr. Stark comes wandering in, then he tenses you when he sees me. "What on earth are you doing up?"

"Eating." I gesture to the half-eaten apple currently sitting in my hand.

Mr. Stark raises his eyebrows at me expectantly, "You were unconscious an hour ago. Go to bed."

"It's, like, seven in the afternoon!" I wave my arms around incredulously. "That's soooo early." I groan and stare up at the ceiling.

Mr. Stark crosses his arms and sighs, "I really don't care. You need to rest."

"But it's not even that big of a deaaallll-" I whine. 

Mr. Stark places his palm up in the air to stop me. "I literally heard your ankle snap, Peter. Go back to bed."

I groan ( _very_ dramatically, just to get my point across) and limp back to my room, passing a smug Mr. Stark on my way there.

Shutting my door behind me, I take in my room. What to distract myself with? Ah, my laptop! I open that sucker up and get lost in vine compilations for what feels like ages.

Is it tomorrow yet? No? I check the time at the corner of the screen—what?! It's only 10:00?! Oh, come on! I fall back against my sheets in frustration. Maybe I should just try to sleep.

So, I shut my eyes as tightly as I can and try to lose myself in my thoughts. Actually, I do end up losing myself in my thoughts. Unfortunately, those thoughts happen to be inclusive of vines, cat videos, and 5 Minute Craft tutorials.

Ugh. Why, brain? Why?!

After staring at the ceiling for what feels like an eternity, I check my watch again. Midnight. 8 hours to try to fall asleep. 

Maybe I can go patrol without Mr. Stark noticing. I heave myself to my feet, falling flat on my face in the process. Nope, ankle still broken. Hurting worse now.

"UghHgHhh." I groan loudly as I lie there, on the floor. Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I decide the best course of action would be to scroll through Insta and take Buzzfeed quizzes to pass the time.

And, voila!—Next thing I know, it's seven AM: an acceptable time to have woken up! Only difference is--I got zero sleep.

I have a quick shower, then brush my teeth and head out to the kitchen. "Morning, Peter. Sleep well?" Steve asks with a smile. He's cooking some eggs.

I chuckle grimly, "Like a baby." I run a hand down my face as I sit at the island. Steve sets a plate in front of me, "Thanks." I hum as I dig in.

"No problem." Steve turns back around to continue cooking more eggs. 

"Peter!" Mr. Stark approaches from behind, startling me. Why didn't my spider-sense catch that? "Woah." Mr. Stark's eyebrows bunch in concern, "I thought you weren't able to be surprised?"

"I'm not." I reply as I take another bite of my eggs. Maybe if I play it off like nothing, he'll act like it's nothing.

Mr. Stark's eyes study my face for a moment. "Did you sleep okay last night? You look a little tired."

"I slept great." I force a smile as I look up at him. He squints at me for another second before giving up and sitting beside me.

The rest of the day goes as expected, Mr. Stark insisting I go lay down, I end up helping Mr. Stark in his lab for a little while, then we all sit in the living room for a movie by the end of the day.

It's eight, so I still have ten hours to go. We end up watching Finding Nemo as a joke, but lowkey all actually wanted to watch it. That ate up two hours.

"Alright, time for bed." Mr. Stark sighs as he shoved himself to his feet. "You need help getting to your room?"

"I'm good, I'm good." I laugh and hobble back to my bedroom. As I flop back down against my bed, I feel exhaustion pull at my eyelids. Finally, my brain's letting me get some sleep. 

_I can feel the building crushing me again._

_I can't breathe. Move. Think._

_Where's Mr. Stark? He was right—I can't do this. I'm just a stupid kid who can't do anything right._

_If only I had listened. Then maybe I wouldn't die here._

_It all hurts so much. Every time I try to move, it feels like I'm getting crushed over and over again. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this._

_Suddenly, Ben appears in front of me. "Ben?" I whisper confusedly. He's just standing there, hands in his pockets. "Help me, please."_

_"You got yourself into this mess, Peter." He says, his voice holding an odd tinge of comfort to it. I blink at him. "You can get yourself out."_

_In a breath, he's gone._

_I would rather him yell at me, scream at me--anything--as long as he stays here and I'm not alone again._

_But now I'm alone._

_I'll always be alone._

I burst awake, clutching at my chest. Quickly, I check my watch to see just how much sleep I'd managed to get—twenty minutes? Seriously? I'm even more tired now than I was before.

I move to go play on my computer, but when I stand up, a wave of dizziness washes over me and I find myself on the floor. When did I get here?

I have to shut my eyes tightly and place my forehead on the carpet in order to reorient my sense of balance. Weird.

I couldn't tell you how long I sat on the floor, trying to fix my senses. It felt like an eternity. The only thing I knew was that at some point, the sun came up.

"Peter?" Friday's kind voice questions.

I wince in response, covering my ears with my hands, "Yeah?"

"You've seemed to be in distress all night. However, I knew you would've never allowed me to contact Mr. Stark while he was asleep. I am contacting him now that he is awake."

Ohhhhh—no, no, no, no, no!! "Friday, no!" I throw myself to my feet in some last-ditch attempt to stop her. The back of my head starts to pulse with a headache.

Someone knocks on the door, and instantly, I know it's Mr. Stark. "I'm coming in." He shouts. The door swings open, revealing a disheveled-looking Mr. Stark. He's still in his Iron-Man pajamas. "Are you okay? Friday told me you weren't doing too good." He rubs at his eyes tiredly.

"I-I'm okay!" I stutter and rub my palms against my jeans anxiously.

Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow and points at my pants, "Did you sleep in your jeans?"

"Uh..." I trail, squinting as I look down at myself.

"He never changed clothes." Friday informs him, much to my dismay. "In fact, he never really went to sleep."

Mr. Stark's eyes widen substantially. "What?" He shrieks at me. "Did you go on patrol? I told you—!"

I throw my palms up in defense, "No, I didn't!" I smirk uneasily, "I just...didn't sleep."

Mr. Stark waves his arms around erratically. "At all?!"

Friday chimes in again, "Not much for the past two nights."

"No wonder you look like a walking zombie!" Mr. Stark freaks out on me, "Why haven't you been sleeping, Pete?"

It's smarter to tell him than not, I guess. "I can't." I confess, squatting down onto my still-made bed in defeat. I run my hands through my hair exhaustedly, "Too many nightmares. Forgot my Trazodone at home." 

"And you've been trying to deal with this yourself?" Mr. Stark sits beside me, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it'd be a big deal." I sigh heavily and look up to study Mr. Stark's face. He has worry etched into every feature. "And even with the Trazodone, it's hard to fall asleep. The meds do practically nothing because of my metabolism." 

"Is it because you don't want to sleep? Because of the nightmares?"

"Partially. Mostly because I literally can't stay asleep." I chuckle grimly at this and lean forwards against my knees.

"Well, you're gonna sleep now." Mr. Stark decides for me, slapping my knee and standing up. He moves for the door.

"What?" I hiccup. 

"Sleep." Mr. Stark enunciates it out for me, as if he'd thought I'd never heard the word before. "Get some."

"It doesn't work like that, Mr. Stark, you know that." I scratch at my eyebrow as I stand up. As soon as my legs straighten, my knees buckle and I end up on the floor again.

Mr. Stark runs to my side, gushing over me like a mom. "Peter? Peter, what's wrong?" He grabs the sides of my face to try to make me look him in the eye.

"I'm so tired." I murmur, my eyes fluttering open and closed. "I just want to go to bed." Tears threaten to pool in my eyes.

"Here, you go to sleep." Mr. Stark advises, helping me lay back down on the sheets. He pulls the covers over me. "I'll sit right there in that chair until I am 100% sure that you're actually asleep." Mr. Stark pulls my desk chair beside my bed, where he sits down and leans his head against his hand. "Okay?"

"Okay..." I murmur as the warmth of the sheets takes me further and further away into sleep.

A new nightmare:

Everything around me has erupted into flames. All I can hear is a dull ringing as my eyes glaze over the scene. I can see certain mechanics combusting, exploding everywhere but I can't hear them. Each time I take a step into the sand, I flinch in pain. My senses are going haywire.

Adrian Toomes stalks out of the roaring fire, his Vulture suit keeping him safe from the dangerous lick of the flames. He's saying things, threats, but I can't hear him. Everything hurts too much.

He comes barreling straight for me. As soon as his fist comes in contact with my chest, I shoot awake.

"No!" I scream. I can feel tears dripping from my eyes. Mr. Stark is shouting something beside me, but I can barely hear him. I'm too lost in my own thoughts to try to focus on what's happening around me.

I can almost still feel the flames licking at my arms, singeing my skin through my suit. My head is spinning, my vision blurry. "Peter!" Mr. Stark's voice comes echoing back into existence. "You're gonna need to focus, kid." He breathes out in concern. "Look at me." Mr. Stark grabs the sides of my face and angles me to look him the eye. "Breathe with me." He demands. "In, out. In, out. That's it. In, and out."

"How long was I asleep?" I plop my head in my hands and lean forwards.

"Maybe thirty minutes?" Mr. Stark runs a hand down his face stressfully. "You really can't get any shuteye, can you?"

"Nope." I chuckle lightly as I look up at Mr. Stark. My eyes feel sandy, my eyelids droopy as I struggle to keep them open.

"You look exhausted, kid." Mr. Stark's lips purse into a line. "I'll figure something out."

"I'll be gone tomorrow anyways, you don't need to worry about me." I look up at my mentor, something like a grimace twitching at the edges of my lips.

"Peter, no matter where you're sleeping, you're gonna have this problem. You don't deserve that." Mr. Stark playfully runs his fingers through my messy head of curls before making his way out of the room. "You want to try to sleep again or get some breakfast?"

"Breakfast." I groan and push myself to my feet.

We spend the entire day trying to find any way to help me sleep, but all we're able to come up with is a stronger dosage of my medication. It'll take a few days to manufacture, so I'll have to struggle through until it's ready. Before we even know it, it's eleven PM and Mr. Stark's on the verge of falling asleep.

We're sitting on Mr. Stark's couch in his lab. "I'm sorry, Peter." Mr. Stark mutters. I can see the exhaustion rooted deep in his eyes. 

"Don't be. It's not your fault I have nightmares." I smile meekly at him and lean back further into the couch.

"Do you want to talk about them?" Mr. Stark offers, lifting up his arm to cradle me against his chest. I smile warmly at him and stare off into the distance, getting lost in my recollection. 

"When Toomes was after me..." I start. I can feel a lump rise in my throat. "He blew up this building with me inside." Mr. Stark's arms tense. "I can't..." I take a deep breath, "It hurt so much. I can't forget what it felt like to be so helpless. I just want to forget."

Mr. Stark takes my small pause to pipe in, "You said—You said a building collapsed on you?" I can't see his face, but if I could, I know I'd be too afraid to continue.

"It was so heavy." I chuckle darkly. Mr. Stark's breathing picks up. "I got out, so it's okay, I guess. No one's ever known about that."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mr. Stark almost sounds...mad? No, no—furious. Yeah, there's the word.

"It doesn't matter now." I wipe my nose with my sleeve. "It feels good to talk about it."

Mr. Stark takes a deep breath, releasing (or more probably suppressing) all of his pent up anger with it. "I'm always here to talk about it, kid." Mr. Stark's soothing voice seems to draw me deeper into sleep. "You're okay. You can sleep now, Peter. Toomes is gone." To my surprise, I actually end up falling asleep. No nightmares. Just sleep.

Ever since that night, paired with the medication, I haven't really had a problem sleeping anymore. Mr. Stark set me up with therapy, so I never have to go bed with the weight of everything sitting on my chest.

Thanks to Mr. Stark, I don't have to worry about collapsing in the middle of class due to exhaustion or worry about falling asleep mid-web and waking up on some random rooftop again. 

Thanks to Mr. Stark, I can actually get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (:


	3. poisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the title says it all (:

It was a cold December evening. I'd spent the entire day out in the snow with Ned and MJ, building snowmen and pelting each other with balls of snow. My toes were freezing and I was feeling kind of drowsy. The receptionist, Vanessa, giggles at me as I shuffle through the lobby, looking like a frozen marshmallow. I give her a self-conscious wave and slip into the elevator.

"Hello, Peter." Friday greets me, with what I assume would be a smile (if she had a face).

"Hey, Fri!" I smile, wondering if she even knew I was smiling.

"I'll alert Tony that you've arrived home." She informs me.

"Thanks." I pull my phone from my backpack, wiping the melting snow off the screen. Checking my notifs, I slowly start to feel my fingertips warm back up.

The elevator doors slide open and I'm greeted with a few smiling faces of the Avengers. "Have fun out there?" Mr. Stark chuckles once he sees me.

I nod vigorously, smiling. I pull off my thick jacket, now wet since the snow had melted. Making my way into the little laundry room Mr. Stark has set up in the hallway, I drop it into a hamper to dry later. My fingers are still red with the chill of winter, getting that weird white-hot burning feeling after the flash of hot from the change in temperature.

I slip my shoes off and wiggle my toes in my socks, trying to warm them up. My nose is starting to get runny from the sudden heat of the building. Pepper walks into the kitchen, her feet sliding a bit in her ankle-length white socks. "Hey, Pete." She smiles at me. "You look cold."

I smirk, "Just a little." I plop down at the island, rubbing my hands together.

"Want some hot chocolate?" She offers, already pulling a mug from the cupboard.

I smile brightly, "Sure! Thank you, Mrs. Potts."

"No problem, Pete." Pepper smiles right back at me as she starts boiling a teapot full of water.

"So, what'd you guys do out there?" Mr. Stark asks curiously as he looks at the falling snow from the window. 

I turn in my spinny chair to face him, "Oh, we just built snowmen and stuff. We tried to build, like, an Iron-Snow-Man but it didn't really work out too well." I chuckle. "We decided it'd work best if I used my webs to keep it together, but they're waterproof so they didn't stick to the snow."

Mr. Stark smiles as I mention the fact that there's now an Iron-Man snowman somewhere out there in New York. "We can work on that." He nods his head at me. "Keep 'em waterproof but work on that part."

"That sounds super cool!" I smile at him for the millionth time.

Pepper slides the mug of hot cocoa in front of me. "Here you go, Pete." She smiles.

"Thanks, Pepper." I smile right back at her and bring the mug up to my lips. My nose catches a scent of something, since my heightened senses are more in tune. I'm not sure what the smell is, but it's something my senses don't like.

I'm not about to be rude and not drink Pepper's hot cocoa, so I ignore my senses and take a drink. It tastes fine...I wonder why my senses freaked out on me.

"You okay, Pete?" Mr. Stark asks curiously, noticing the look on my face. A few of the Avengers turn away from their movie to look my way.

"Um, yeah, I'm great!" I smile reassuringly at him and take another sip.

Curiously, Mr. Stark makes his way into the kitchen to see what Pepper's doing. He picks a small bottle up off the counter and looks at the label. "Pep, what's this?" My throat starts to feel oddly tight, making it hard to breathe.

"Oh, peppermint. Just adds a little something to the cocoa." She smiles playfully as she puts the teapot away.

Mr. Stark and I freeze at the same time, sharing a look. "Peppermint-?" Mr. Stark clarifies, watching me concernedly.

As my throat constricts even more, my eyes water, and my hands start to shake. "Is that a problem-?" She watches us confusedly.

"Yeah, Peter's allergic-" Mr. Stark blurts, rushing up to me. "Pete? Pete—are you okay?" He tries to draw my attention to his face, but I'm too distracted with trying to remember how to breathe. "Bruce?!" His head snaps over to the Avengers sitting on the couch.

"Yeah?" Dr. Banner flips around, already making his way over here.

"We're gonna need some help." Mr. Stark shouts as he gently pats my face, trying to keep me awake. I'm starting to get drowsy from the lack of oxygen.

"What?" Dr. Banner shrieks as he hustles over. "What happened?!"

"Peter's allergic to peppermint." Mr. Stark grimaces as he points to the bottle on the counter. Pepper's simply standing there in shock.

"Oh my god..." Dr. Banner gushes and moves in front of Mr. Stark. "Peter? Peter, hey-" He also tries to get my attention. My hands are held tightly against my throat, trying to find any way to let some oxygen pass. "We gotta get him to the medbay."

Mr. Stark scoops me up quickly, my head lulling back as my muscles go limp. "Peter?" He tries to lift my head up with the crook of his elbow. "Pete, stay with me."

The only response I manage to muster up is a raspy gasp for air, grimacing and squirming in Mr. Stark's arm. Let it be known, suffocating does not feel nice.

We hurry into the elevator and I grasp onto Mr. Stark for dear life as it drops down, quicker than usual. "Mr. Stark..." I gasp out, tears in my eyes. "It hurts."

Concern and pain fill his features, emotion thick in his voice, "I know, buddy."

"We're almost there." Dr. Banner grimaces. The elevator doors open and Mr. Stark carries me into one of the many medical rooms lined up in the medbay. "Here!"

Mr. Stark lays me down on the cot. "What do we do?!"

Without hesitation, Dr. Banner pulls a bottle and a syringe from the cupboards. He fills the syringe and sticks it in my arm, taking a few deep breaths as he does so.

I still feel like I'm being strangled, my energy depleting every second. Dr. Banner extracts the needle, a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead. A few seconds later, my throat finally loosens and I sigh in relief as a breath of oxygen floods my deprived lungs. I lean back against the pillows, trying to take deep breaths. "Thank you..." I huff.

"Just get some rest, kid." Mr. Stark wipes a few curls from my face. His face is full with concern as I lie there, exhausted.

I nod feebly just as my eyes shut gently, my mind drifting off into the darkness of sleep.


End file.
